


Lewis's Scientist Sanctuary

by themonkeycabal



Series: Run 'Verse [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton's Farm, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Darcy has no concept of boundaries, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3942676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeycabal/pseuds/themonkeycabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-canon to the non-canon canon. </p><p>Ridiculous, just for a bit of a laugh, addition to the Run 'Verse. </p><p>"Oh little scientists, you've been through so much. Darcy wanted to tuck them up somewhere safe where they could just science and be happy. Maybe she needed to start a Scientists Rescue Sanctuary. A little place out in the country somewhere, with like labs and puppies. Did Clint have a dog on his farm? Would Clint mind if she started bunking scientists in his barn?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lewis's Scientist Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> No, really, it's just a laugh. Well, hopefully a laugh. And isn't what I'd call canon to the Run 'Verse.

Clint sat in his truck, stopped in the middle of the road, staring out over his south pasture. There were people there. People he didn't know. They didn't look like threatening people, they seemed to just be standing there, unarmed, gesturing a lot, and wearing … lab coats?

He inched his truck down the drive, watching for the threat, the source of this weirdness. There were two more people standing in front of his barn. Again, they didn't appear threatening. They were wearing t-shirts and jeans and cardigans. Cardigans. 

Pulling up to the front of his house, he hopped out of his truck, determined to make the weird people go away. He was reaching into the back, pulling up his duffle and bow, when the screen door squealed open and then shut with a bang, clattering against its frame. 

Darcy stepped to the end of the porch, leaned her elbows against the railing and grinned at him. Clint rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on his bow. Funny how the things that made no sense, still made no sense, and yet now that he saw Darcy, it made all the sense in the world. 

"Heya, Hawkguy."

He glared at her, raised an arm, and pointed off across the yard. "There are people in my pasture."

Darcy looked towards the pasture. "Oh, yeah, that's Harriman and Park."

"Why are they in my pasture?"

Darcy shrugged. "Couldn't tell you."

"And the two by my barn?"

"Simmons," she pointed at the woman on the left, and then moved her finger to point at the guy in the sweater, "Fitz."

"Simmons and Fitz," he repeated. "FitzSimmons. Coulson's FitzSimmons?"

"That's them."

"What are they doing?"

Darcy leaned forward even more, cantilevering herself over the rail to get a better look. "Looks like they're testing Fitz's little baby drones."

Cursing under his breath, Clint hefted his gear and started towards the front steps, almost tripping when a small goat darted in front of him, bleating its outrage at the near miss. 

"Why is there a goat?"

"I got you a goat," Darcy said. "You didn't have a goat. I was so disappointed. How do you have a farm and not have a goat? His name is Arturo Bigglesworth III."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Darcy clucked at the little goat, who ignored her and bounced away. "He loves to climb, like, _everything_. And he likes to eat, like, _everything_. You two have a ton in common." She grinned back at him. "You're welcome."

Clint tossed his duffle on the porch, set his bow down, and shoved a hand in his hair while he tried to sort through his conflicting feelings of outrage and confusion. "Do you not know the definition of the word 'boundaries'?"

She ignored him. "How come you don't have a dog?"

Clint squeezed his eyes shut and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "I'm not here often enough to have a dog."

"You've got a caretaker. You need a dog. Or maybe five dogs."

A low, muffled boom echoed across the farmyard and Clint jumped, his hand reaching for the sidearm he wasn't wearing.

"It's just Jane in the lab with a couple other scientists," Darcy told him.

Clint let his hand fall and gave her a dazed look. "I don't have a lab."

"The barn."

"You turned my barn into a lab?"

"You never go in there," Darcy scoffed. "It was just ancient, broken down farm equipment."

"I do so go in there," Clint protested, standing on his porch, feeling like an interloper in his own space. This was … this was very Darcy. First she breaks into his apartment all the damned time, and now she's invaded his farm. With scientists. Goddamn it. Freaking Starks.

"No, you don't," she shot back. "I know this, because your barn has been a lab for like five months. Also, I'm pretty sure, between me and Jane and Fitz, we've fixed up most of the broken stuff. Which you totally haven't noticed. So, again, you're welcome."

"Darcy," Clint said her name in a low, drawn out hiss. "Why are there scientists and a goat on my farm?"

"Well, a) you needed a goat." Clint bared his teeth at her and she smiled back, unrepentant. "And, look, it's like this. See, all the SHIELD going to hell stuff, and Hydra stuff, and alien stuff, everybody's all worried about the specialists and whatnot, but who's thinking about the scientists? Huh, who? Nobody, that's who. No, it's all 'fix this, make that, here's alien tech tell me what it is in five minutes'. They're all stressed. Poor scientists."

"Darcy Freaking Stark," he growled out, almost choking on her name in his exasperation. 

Darcy's face twisted into a comical grimace. "Wow, Stark even. Okay, honestly, Natasha told me you'd be gone for like another two weeks. So—"

"You come to my farm when I'm gone." Why was he surprised? He shouldn't have been surprised. He was going to have to find a new farm now. A farm two, maybe three states away. 

"It's my scientist rescue sanctuary." She swept out a hand, taking in the farmyard and the scientists beyond. "They need someplace safe to just science and relax and get some fresh air and actual sunlight."

A small object flew onto the porch, buzzed around Clint's head for a moment, zoomed off to Darcy, and then left the porch to fly back to the waving Fitz and Simmons. 

"Aw, see, they want to say 'hi'." 

Clint pressed a hand to his temple. "How many?"

Darcy thought for a moment, tapping at her chin with a finger. "Nine? Yeah, nine." She smiled at him while he gaped back. "We're totally having a cookout tonight. Your timing's great. Oh, wait," she stepped around him and down the stairs. "Arturo, get off the truck." She plucked the tiny animal off the hood and turned around to Clint, holding out Arturo to him. "Want to hold him? He mostly doesn't bite."

"No, I don't want to hold him," Clint bit out. 

"Yeah, alright," she shrugged and sat down on a step with the goat in her lap. 

Clint looked around helplessly, but didn't flinch when another muffled boom and a cloud of dust puffed out of the half-open barn doors. Fitz and Simmons dashed away from the cloud and ended up near the sheep pen. Fitz stood back, cradling some sort of device to his chest, while Simmons bent over the fence and appeared to be talking to his sheep. 

Glancing towards the south pasture, Harriman and Park were still waving their arms at each other, and pointing at tablets, and chewing on long stalks of grass. 

The screen door squealed open again and Clint braced himself for more weird. 

"Oh, hi Clint." Bruce gave him a little smile and caught the screen door before it could slam. 

The goat bleated at Bruce and tried to climb Darcy's shoulder. 

"Hi, Arturo." Bruce shuffled his feet and winced hesitantly at Clint. "So, hi," he said again. "We, uh, thought you weren't going to be back for a couple more weeks."

"I heard," Clint said flatly. 

Bruce nodded slowly and looked away, but kept watch on Clint out of the corner of his eye. "Sorry?"

"No, no, it's fine. Fine, just fine. No problem at all. _You_ don't need to apologize." Clint glared down at Darcy and Arturo. "I blame Lewis."

Darcy snorted a laugh and pulled the sleeve of her shirt away from the goat. "We'll leave tomorrow. But, everybody's been looking forward to the cookout. Come on," she tilted her head back and looked at him upside down. "It'll be fun. Live a little, Barton."

And that brought another question to mind. Clint dreaded the answer but had to ask anyway. "Where are they all sleeping?" 

"In the barn. We did up the hayloft really nice." Darcy waved a hand but paused to consider. "Well, not Phan, though. She's got really bad allergies. She's in one of your bedrooms. You have five. There's only you."

"Okay, one of those is Natasha's," he argued back, pointing a condemning finger at her, "and the other three don't have furniture."

"They do now." Darcy grinned at him again. "And, once more, you're welcome."

Bruce cleared his throat and shuffled his feet some more. "I'm going to go … see how Jane's doing."

"If I had to guess, she's having issues with the compressor," Darcy told him, as another, softer boom, rattled the yard.

"Oh, yeah." Bruce said mildly, staring off at the other building. "I'll go see if she needs a hand."

Clint felt a tug at his foot and glanced down to see Arturo trying to eat his shoelaces. "No, you little …" he shook his foot and Arturo bleated at him and bounced off the porch. 

"Aw, you scared him."

"Darcy. Do you not have any concept of boundaries? Seriously? This is my place. My space. My sanctuary. My island of sanity."

"In Iowa."

"There is nothing wrong with Iowa," he shouted and Arturo bleated back at him. "Screw you, buddy!"

"Clint," Darcy said his name softly, like she was talking him back from the edge, and maybe she was. "In the kitchen, right now, is a ribeye the size of your face. And it's got your name on it. You get what I'm saying? Huh? There are bowls of potato salad, coleslaw, and pasta salad in the fridge that could feed Thor and Steve. And they're not here. There are so many cobs of corn, we could make Arturo a house made of corn cobs. There are enough skewers of veggies and chicken and tofu and whatever the hell else, that you could weaponize them and hold off an army. And there are pies. So many pies, Clint. So many, you don't know."

Outrage cracked at the thought of steak and pie. "What kind?"

She looked at him, her face serious, and told him solemnly, "All the kinds."

Clint hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the top step, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I kind of hate you."

"I love you, too."

He grumbled and watched Fitz try to rescue his sweater from Arturo. "No, really, I hate you."

"You have a new TV and a satellite dish," she said with off-hand innocence. 

"Quit trying to bribe me," he grumbled back. 

"You have a barbecue that could comfortably roast a side of beef."

He faltered. "No, no, still hate you."

"It's got a smoker with a motorized spit attachment."

"Goddamn it, Darcy." He stood up and held his hand out to her. "It better be freaking spectacular."

She grabbed his hand and let him pull her up. "Please, the salesdude at the great outdoors-y store in Cedar Rapids wept tears of joy when I put in the order. Visions of his sales commission dancing through his head."

"Better be amazing," he warned, and shot a look over at FitzSimmons who where trying to coax Arturo off the top of the sheep shed. A freaking goat. "Better blow my mind and other things."

Darcy punched him in the side. "Gross, Barton."

"And I want two ribeyes," he muttered, following her around the house. "And one of those pies had better be peach."

Darcy pointed a finger gun at him and laughed. "A la mode, sucker."

"And there'd better be beer. Good beer."

"Like you notice." She rolled her eyes. "But, yes, there's beer. Many beers."

"Good."

"You're welcome."

"Stop saying that."

She snickered and he glowered. Off in the distance the goat bleated, scientists yelped, and another soft boom echoed across the farm.


End file.
